“No. I can do it. I just need to stand.” She squeezes my hand as she finds her feet, then turns, crossing her arms over the mattress and leaning her head down.
I lean down next to her, one hand rubbing her back gently while the other tangles with her fingers.
“What do you need me to do?” I whisper.
She turns her head to me. Her cheeks are flushed, sweat beads over her temples, but she smiles. “Just keep doing that.”
I kiss her hair, where little white flowers are still woven through a braid that reaches into the curls at the back. The vision of her in her wedding dress earlier will forever be seared into my brain. The sheer lace sleeves that flared out from her elbows. The cream tulle that fell gracefully over her bump. When I saw her at the end of the aisle I had to stop myself from running over. Caleb whispered in my ear to wait and let the memory of Isabelle walking towards me be a connection, an eternal reminder, of how far I’d come in the last year. Of how deserving I was of the happiness and security her love offered.
My hand keeps moving in soothing circles over Isabelle as she pushes her hips back and groans through gritted teeth.
“You’re doing so good, baby. I’m so proud of you.” I bring her hand to my lips, kissing over her knuckles and down her wrists.
“Can you get me a washcloth?” she mutters, head against the mattress.
I stand up quickly, running to the attached bathroom. Where the fuck is a washcloth? I run back, frantic as my eyes search the room.
“In my bag.” Isabelle groans.
My eyes go to the table in the corner, the shelves lining one wall, by the door. There’s no bag.
“Fuck. Mason and Beth still have it.”
“I need it, Grim.” My wife sounds tired as she begs me, and I’m desperate to take the discomfort away. Fumbling for my phone, I reach into my pocket and pull up Mason’s number.
“Is she here?” he answers, practically shouting through the speaker.
“No. Have you got Izzy’s bag?”
“Yeah. I’m in the waiting room with everyone else.”
“Can you bring it? We’re just down the hall. I’ll come stand out the door.”
“Yep, I’m on my way.” Mason hangs up, and I race over to the door.
Straight away, I’m greeted by the sight of Mason and Beth power walking down the hallway, each tugging on a strap of Isabelle’s bag.
“He told me to do it!” Mason argues, yanking the bag to his chest.
“She’s my best friend!” Beth hauls the bag back to herself.
Mason curls his lip. “He’s my brother!”
Beth stops, staring up at him, dropping the handle. “He’s my brother too, you idiot.”
“Hey!” I hiss at them. “You’re both idiots. My wife needs her bag. Now give it to me.”
Beth snatches the bag while Mason’s defences are down, sprinting the rest of the distance and pressing it against my chest. She looks over my shoulder into the room. “How’s she doing?”
I look behind me, and Isabelle’s still leaning over the bed. “She’s doing okay. She’s seven centimetres already, so we might not be waiting much longer.”
Beth presses both hands to her cheeks, eyes brimming with tears. “I can’t believe I’m going to be an aunty.”
“You guys need anything else?” Mason asks, wrapping an arm around Beth’s shoulders.
“No.” I shake my head. “Can you update everyone? Is everyone still here?”
“Of course.” Mason slaps the back of his hand against my chest. “We’re not leaving until she’s here. We chucked some spare clothes for you in the bag, too.”
